"Is it so?" said Beorn. "Is it so indeed? Sweyn the Outlaw! Sweyn the Nithing!" His voice rose in a drunken laugh. "Godwin's son! Sweyn the son of King Canute, and of Gytha the spotless princess."
It was the last hiss of that wicked worm. The Danish war-axe of Sweyn whistled once through the air, and smote Earl Beorn right between the brows, and he fell heavily along the deck, and by his blood was Algive all foully bespattered as she lay.
And Sweyn sang loud and hoarse and high; hoarse and high and loud sang he:
"Utters the axe: of Sweyn the sea-rover;
Lifeless he lies: the wiler of women!
Blood of betrayer: is it not a sight full seemly?
Haro! Haro!
Aié! Haro!
Lo! cries his lord: Weapon unworthy,
Lop I thy head leifer, than 'gainst brave and true men bear thee!